The bar was buzzing that afternoon. On the left side, two muscular men were duking it out in the boxing ring. The surrounding booths were packed, with a crowd of three or four hundred people gathered around the ring, cheering loudly, creating a chaotic atmosphere.
"Hey, Richard, Anthony, over here!" Paul shouted, flashing a toothy grin from a booth in the center.
Richard waved back and turned to Old Hall and Stephen, saying, "Feel free to do as you like; drinks are on the house here."
"Got it!" Old Hall and Stephen, finding the area near the ring too noisy, settled into a quieter booth.
Richard and Anthony made their way to Paul's booth, where they saw Mike, Norman with his girlfriend Summer, Paul, and a girl sitting next to Paul.
Paul had called earlier, saying he wanted to introduce his new girlfriend to everyone. However, when Richard saw the girl, he blinked in surprise. It was Venus Williams, the sister of Serena Williams and the former girlfriend of Shaquille O'Neal.
Richard remembered that Paul had been pursuing Serena, so how did it turn into Venus?
"Richard, Anthony, this is Venus. We're seeing each other now," Paul said with a broad smile.
"Hi, Venus, I'm Anthony. Paul's buying today," Anthony joked.
"No problem!" Paul responded enthusiastically.
Richard, keeping his surprise in check, greeted Venus.
"Hey, Richard, look at those two fighters in the ring. Who do you think will win?" Norman shouted.
"Hard to tell. Are you guys betting?" Richard noticed a few betting slips on the table.
"Yeah, I'm the bookie. Want to place a bet?" Norman asked.
Richard shook his head, "Norman, you have a knack for turning any place into a casino. You'd do well in Las Vegas."
"Haha, you're right. Once I have enough money, I'll buy a casino in Vegas and make money while lying down," Norman laughed heartily.
Bang!
On the ring, the bearded fighter landed a heavy punch, knocking down his tattooed opponent. The referee knelt down and began the count.
The crowd below, those who had bet on the tattooed fighter, yelled and cursed, urging him to get up and continue the fight.
But by the time the referee counted to ten, the tattooed fighter was still down. The bearded fighter won the match, and those who had bet on him cheered loudly, rushing over to Mike to collect their winnings.
"Damn it! That guy looked tougher—how did he lose? I'm down seven or eight hundred bucks this time," Norman cursed, his face dark with frustration.
"You can't make money by blindly guessing," Richard said with a smile.
"You're right. Next time, I'll bring in some real heavy hitters to be the champions here. That way, I'll always win," Norman suggested.
"Don't do that. These fighters are amateurs, and their skills are relatively even, so it's safe to let them fight. But if you bring in real boxers, this place will turn into an underground fight club, and if something goes wrong, it'll be hard to clean up the mess," Richard cautioned.
"Richard, you're always too cautious, overthinking everything," Paul teased.
"I just don't like trouble."
This bar had been an investment of $30,000 from Andy and Norman, $20,000 from Richard, and $5,000 each from Anthony, Paul, and Mike. Initially, they had just wanted a place to practice boxing and have a drink, but it was quickly turning into a gambling den and fight club, which was straying from their original intent.
"Paul! Fuck you!" Richard was deep in thought about discussing a new plan for the bar with Andy when suddenly, a loud roar echoed through the room. A towering black man, over two meters tall, charged forward and punched Paul square in the face.
Bam!
The punch landed hard, sending Paul stumbling backward with blood trickling from his mouth.
"O'Neal, have you lost your mind? Why did you hit me?" Paul clenched his fists, ready to fight back, but when he saw that it was Shaquille O'Neal, he held back his anger and asked.
"Fuck you! You dare ask why? You bastard! I thought you were my friend, but you went behind my back and stole my girl?! I'm going to kill you," O'Neal roared, raising his massive fists to strike again.
"Whoa!"
The surrounding crowd gasped in shock. This was huge gossip—a famous basketball star, Shaquille O'Neal, had just found out his friend was stealing his girlfriend.
"Shaq, you and Venus broke up before she and I got together. I didn't steal your girl," Paul protested.
"Bullshit! If you didn't steal her, why would Venus break up with me?!" O'Neal snapped, his anger unabated.
"It's because you cheated on her first."
"Lies! Damn it, Paul, I introduced you to Serena, and you go after my girlfriend instead? Today, I'm going to kill you!" Shaquille O'Neal swung his fist at Paul.
Bang! Paul raised his hand to block it and rolled up his sleeves, ready for a fight.
"Hey, you two, take it easy!"
Richard stepped in, grabbed their wrists, and pulled them into a secluded booth.
"There are so many people here. Do you want to make headlines?"
"I don't care anymore! This bastard took advantage of my absence during a game to steal my girl. Today, I'm going to beat him to death."
Shaquille's face was dark with rage.
"Shaq, I made it clear last time. I broke up with you because I couldn't stand you cheating all the time."
Venus Williams said.
"I-I didn't cheat. That was just an accident. I was drunk. I was going to explain it to you after the game, but before I could, damn it, Paul, you despicable scoundrel!"
Shaquille cursed.
"But the fact is, you two broke up," Paul said.
"No, it was just a temporary breakup," Shaquille argued.
"Even if it's a temporary divorce, it's still a divorce. Venus can date whoever she wants, and it's none of your business," Paul said.
"Fuck, do you think I don't know? You had your eye on Venus for a long time. As soon as we broke up, you swooped in and took her. You damn bastard!"
"I didn't take her. It was Venus's own choice," Paul said confidently, wrapping his arm around Venus.
"Shaq, stop it. We've been together for less than a year, and you've cheated several times. I've had enough. Even without Paul, we would have broken up," Venus said.
"Heh heh, Shaq, did you hear that?" Paul said, a bit smugly.
Shaquille snorted and glared at him with wide eyes. "Hmph, a guy without even a championship belt, what do you have to be smug about?"
"Fuck, what did you say?!"
Paul stood up abruptly, his face turning red with anger.
"Am I not speaking the truth?" Shaquille grinned.
"Shaq, this has nothing to do with the championship belt. Paul will definitely win one in the future," Richard said.
"Hah, but he doesn't have one now," Shaquille laughed.
"I'll show you!"
Paul snorted, then walked out of the bar.
Venus sighed softly and followed him.
Richard shook his head. What a mess.
"Haha, everyone, keep drinking! Drinks are on me tonight!" Shaquille stood up and shouted.
"Shaq, did you come here just to mess with Paul?" Richard asked.
"Why not?" Shaquille smiled.
Richard shrugged, speechless.
Later that night, Richard found Paul training.
"How do you feel?"
"I'm going to win that championship belt!" Paul said, pounding his fist into the punching bag with determination.
"Alright then," Richard sighed inwardly, hoping Paul could really focus.
"Come on, let's spar!"
"Alright!"
Thud, thud, thud~ Paul, fueled by anger, began his training.
The boxing gym echoed with the sounds of intense combat.
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